


Not The Worst Surprise

by park3rborn



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Dorian doesn't pay his tab, Drinking, F/F, Fluff, Height Differences, Kissing, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Wingman Dorian Pavus, acting 12 about your feelings, missed innuendo, the inquisitor may lead armies but she doesn't quite get romance but to be fair.. neither does sera, this is messy I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-18 06:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11285829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/park3rborn/pseuds/park3rborn
Summary: Sera recruits Dorian to see if the Inquisitor likes or like-likes her.





	Not The Worst Surprise

“Fancy a drink, Inquisitor?” 

“Always, Dorian.” 

Things had been a bit more stressful for the Inquisitor after the events at the Winter Palace. Dorian and the Iron Bull were both, surprisingly, on their best behavior at the Winter Palace. Sera, on the other hand, ran about the palace with the Inquisitor, hunting for Red Jenny caches. Some were indeed caches, and others may or may not have been impossibly hard to reach only to be hiding half used containers of mysteriously foul smelling something. Finding out which the boxes held was the fun part. Sera’s pranking and the spur-of-the-moment excursions up trellis had been the highlights of the Inquisitor’s night. Sera’s lithe frame helped her squeeze into places and go through groups of people with ease, and it was incredible. It also, without a doubt, helped her filch several coinpurses and frilly things that were unnecessarily embellished with priceless jewels, but it felt good to knock down the powerful a few pegs in order to help others live better lives. Needless to say, Sera and the Inquisitor had both been less than tactful with the Court and refused to play their Game, much to the distress of Ambassador Montiliyet. In the aftermath of the whole ordeal, Orlais was left possibly more unstable than it was to begin with, and the Inquisitor swore to never go to a Grand Ball so long as she lived.

“You were awfully at peace with the whole thing,” Marrin observed, taking a deep drink from her cup. She was sitting next to Dorian at the tavern bar table, two empty mugs and one fresh mug waiting in front of her. She and Cabot, the bartender, had an understanding that when alcohol was needed, it should flow freely and without question unless pants started coming off in the tavern. She appreciated that about him.

“It had fewer murders than what we have back home, and the food needed some proper seasoning, but otherwise? For me, I suppose, it is somewhat normal.” 

“At least with the Carta, you know where you stand. For the most part. For example, Varric knows he’s got at least ten contracts out on him in the Kirkwall area. I know I had about twenty before the Winter Palace, and now I have about forty-seven.”

“Forty-seven death warrants and yet?”

Marrin rolled her eyes. “Even the casteless don’t particularly relish the idea of hiking their way up a damned mountain to kill someone who could possibly save the world, Dorian.”

“Not that they could get close to you if they tried.”

Marrin cocked an eyebrow at that.

“Well, I’m sure that Leliana doesn’t let you out of her sights one way or another, you’ve got a small army of mages, and Sera would die for you.” An awkward pause. “As would I.”

Marrin frowned. “I appreciate that, Dorian.” 

Dorian cleared his throat and signaled for another, asking Cabot just to put it on his tab.

“As if you’ve ever paid that,” Cabot muttered, filling another mug.

They continued to make small talk, discussing most everything from the quality of the sheets in Skyhold to the weather that they might encounter on their way to Orlais in the next few weeks, making their way through a few more rounds before Sera quickly stepped up to the bar. Marrin thought about inviting her for a drink, but Sera started before she could even open her mouth.

“Dorian, got to talk to you,” she said urgently. “Right now.”

His eyes flitted nervously between the Inquisitor and Sera. “I’ll be right back,” he said apologetically. Sera practically dragged him over to a corner and gestured wildly about whatever was so very important. She only could hear semi-useless pieces of the conversation, like “arse-head” and “titbuckets”. Marrin shook her head and told Cabot that this last drink would be it for the night, and insisted he not serve her if she asked for another. The last thing she really needed was a hangover to accompany her morning headaches. 

Dorian came back to the bar, looking flustered, and Marrin watched Sera bound up the stairs, red-faced up to her ears.

“Everything okay?” Marrin asked. “Is Sera all right?”

“Everything’s just dandy. Sera's nice, right? Once you get to know her. Past the several layers of... whatever. Excellent with a bow. I'm sure she could find other things to do with her fingers besides stealing and archery."

“Did she hurt herself?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Why would you bring up her fingers and archery otherwise?" 

"Never mind."

"If you need to leave to take care of something, you’re not hurting my feelings. Or we could always send Solas, or Vivienne.”

“No! It’s nothing. Nothing's wrong, and besides, I wouldn’t want to leave your excellent company. Anyway, ah... how do you feel about being in a relationship with someone taller than you?” 

“What kind of question is that, Dorian?”

He dragged his hands down his face in exasperation. “This is ridiculous.”

“Dorian, are you coming onto me?”

Cabot spluttered behind the bar. 

“What? No! This is not working,” he said pointedly to... someone. Maybe Cole? “The game is up. Inquisitor, I have a confession to make but you have to promise not to tell that I told you.”

“Okay?”

He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Sera decided to make me into her spy and wanted me to see if you’d be interested in her. But, as you had to experience, I don’t exactly have any idea how to do that. Despite what Sera likes to think, we have nothing in common with how courting works. And she naturally got impatient with me because apparently I wasn't moving quickly enough for her taste."

“And she couldn’t just ask me if I liked her?”

“Yes."

“That’s a very Sera thing to do. And wait-- so this means she also likes me?”

“Fasta vass, you both are incredibly daft. Of course she ‘likes’ you!" He sighed, "And they let you lead the Inquisition?”

Marrin grinned, glad it wasn’t just her imagination this whole time.

“By the way, she somehow wanted me to subconsciously convince you to ask her out. If you were interested. She refused to believe me when I told her you can’t ever stop staring at her when you’re in a room together.”

“I do not always stare at her!”

“Yes, you do,” Cabot called from the back room.

“Damn, and I thought I was being stealthy.”

“Just do me a favor and go upstairs and end this weird romantic-meets-sexual tension that the two of you have going on already? For all of us?”

Even Cabot raised an encouraging eyebrow. The Inquisitor had to keep herself just from running up the stairs. She knocked hesitantly on the wall next to Sera’s door, which was slightly ajar. 

“Who’s it?”

“It’s Marrin.”

There was what sounded like tripping and a “frigging shite!” behind the door immediately followed by Sera practically throwing open the door. “Yes?” She nervously dusted off her pants. Not that they could ever show dust with the pattern being what it was.

The Inquisitor was at a loss for words. She really hadn’t thought this far. “I, uh, have something to give you.”

Sera’s eyes narrowed. “If it’s frigging raisins, I swear to the Maker. Is it something fun, at least?”

“Depends on you.” She took Sera’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. This was it. Months of uncertainty, finally about to end. “You’re going to need to lean down a little for it.”

The tips of Sera's ears were turning pink and she had a small smirk as she started to piece it together. "Whatever you say, your Inquisitorialness."

"Close your eyes."

The smirk had grown into a grin. By the time she felt Marrin grip her hair to pull her into a kiss, she was full-on beaming. There was some ass-grabbing for good measure, and it wasn't the cleanest kiss, but Maker it felt  _right_.

"That wasn't the worst surprise I've gotten," Sera said, smile back on her face. "Frigging hell, how long have we waited to finally do that?"

“Too long." Marrin had to take a proper breath, face flushed. "So I guess this means this is mutual?”

“Less talking, more kissing," Sera said, pulling Marrin back into her room.

"Won't argue with that."

They could hear Iron Bull and Dorian wolf-whistling downstairs, even after they closed the door.

**Author's Note:**

> This is terrible and I am deeply sorry. I wish I had the patience to give this the love it needs, but I really just needed to do some more wlw work and this was half written when I opened my drafts. Maybe I'll go back and do more Sera stuff once I have more free time.


End file.
